


Garrison Days

by DebbieF



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen, Spoiler Alert Spoiler Alert Spoiler Alert Spoiler Alert for Season 3 Episode 10 We Are The Garrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2016-07-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 12:32:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7361632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DebbieF/pseuds/DebbieF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT<br/>For Season 3, Episode 10 - We Are The Garrison<br/>On an amusing note, there actually is a huge craft show along with historical overtones in a nearby town close to where I live and it is called Garrison Days. I just thought it a fitting title for my last re-write of season 3.</p><p>See note at bottom</p><p>++++</p>
            </blockquote>





	Garrison Days

_Cathedral_

The funeral for Minister Treville was a lengthy, solemn one as most funerals go. D'Artagnan and his brothers managed to get through it relatively dry-eyed. Feeling a hand settle on his arm, d'Artagnan turned his head an encountered Athos' questioning gaze resting on him, or particularly on d'Artagnan's right shoulder. "Tis fine, Athos."

"I'll know better once we've carried Treville's casket to the minister's final resting place." Athos' hand dropped from the lad's arm only to find it automatically make its way to d'Artagnan's back, giving their youngest a few reassuring pats. "Let's go."

The procession out of the cathedral was a grim one with all four Musketeers in the lead carrying Minister Treville's casket. Queen Anne, Constance and the cadets were directly behind her along with the masses of people that came to pay their last respects to one of the finest men that had ever lived.

++++

_Early evening - The Wren_

"That leather brace was just what you needed, d'Artagnan," Aramis sat on d'Artagnan's right with Porthos on the lad's left, leaving the younger man sandwiched in-between.

"My thanks again for helping come up with that idea," d'Artagnan took a slow sip of his wine.

"Credit goes to Doctor Devereaux as well, mon frere," Aramis pointed out.

"All that extra paddin' under that brace helped ya too, kid," Porthos added.

Looming over d'Artagnan, Athos raised a brow. "Does it ache?"

Rolling his eyes, d'Artagnan glared up at the captain. "An occasional slight twinge of pain here or there but tis all." Hand waving at a chair, he teased. "Now, maman, how about sitting down and joining us." Having heard Aramis' quiet snort, d'Artagnan smiled. Looking around the room he noted the tavern was full to capacity with Musketeers who had loved Treville just as fiercely as d'Artagnan had, all remembering the officer in their own way.

"That's nice of Constance ta help out like this," Porthos saw the young woman all over the place making sure the wine flowed freely, with that youngster Brujon helping her.

"I keep expecting him to walk through that door," Aramis nodded toward the tavern's entrance. "Barking orders, face like thunder," he shared a sad, amused smile with his brothers.

Having heard Aramis' last remark, Constance agreed. "He had a temper."

"An endearing temper," Aramis tacked on.

"Ya knew where ya were with 'im," Porthos grunted.

Noting that Athos had not as yet indulged, d'Artagnan was surprised. "Is the wine not to your liking?"

Lifting a shoulder then letting it carelessly drop, Athos gazed at his three closest friends. "Apparently I'm not ready yet."

Before d'Artagnan could respond to that, Porthos stood up and pounded his fist on their table to gain everyone's attention.

"Treville gave 'is life for the country 'e loved," Porthos looked around the room, noting everyone hung on his words. "'E was a father ta all of us. We will never forget 'is bravery or 'is sacrifice."

Deciding it was now or never, d'Artagnan stood up too. He was comforted by the fact that Porthos kept his hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder to bolster him. And damn if those tears he finally thought under control hadn't started to leak out again! "He was a father to all of us," d'Artagnan choked out. "He went out against the cowards who shot him down," his tears were now visible for all to see but he wasn't ashamed of them. "But we few here owe him much more," d'Artagnan shot a look at Athos. "We owe him everything we are," he paused as loud cheers from the other Musketeers shook the room.

"He didn't care if you came from a farm. He didn't care if you came from the streets. All he saw was the man that you could become," d'Artagnan took a deep breath and yelled - " _A SOLDIER!_ " Thunderous cheers rocked the tavern at his words. "He gave us a home," he leaned his head on Porthos' shoulder. "He gave us a family," eyes red rimmed d'Artagnan glanced at Aramis, turning it over to him next.

Standing beside his brothers, hands on hips, Aramis stared out into the crowd that filled every corner of the tavern. “We were all young cadets once and arriving at the garrison full of self-doubt. But it was Treville who always believed in us. It was that belief that made us into…” Aramis’ voice gave out as his emotions got the better of him.

“Musketeers,” Porthos gruffly finished for him.

Then all the inseparables stood side by side with d’Artagnan in the middle to toast their fallen leader. “ _TREVILLE!_ ”

Then the unthinkable happened when multiple bombs were tossed into the tavern... Hell had come to the garrison.

The tavern was almost completely destroyed. Nothing but smoke, rubble and debris riddled the building, along with wounded or dead Musketeers.

Stumbling outside, waving aside the smoky haze that followed him, the first person to enter Aramis’ head that could have been behind this deadly attack was, “ _Grimaud_.”

“Marcheaux as well,” Athos coughed, smoke still filled his lungs.

“We end this now!” Porthos growled.

And that’s when another loud explosion rocked their world and they heard a woman’s screams.

“The garrison,” Aramis looked toward Athos whose face registered shock. “Merde!”

“Constance!” D’Artagnan grew frightened for his friend’s safety.

“Yeah, her and Brujon went back for more wine,” Porthos said.

Running as if his life depended on it, d’Artagnan raced toward the fire that had started to blaze so brightly that it lit up the entire night sky. When he reached the garrison gates, his heart flew up into his mouth. This must be what hell looked like with flames all around him, burning embers alighting wood that littered the ground.

Working his way toward the wine cellar more explosions ripped through the garrison building by building. But as they collapsed in a heap d’Artagnan’s only fear was for his dearest friend. “Constance!” he shouted, about to run into the building but Porthos’ tight grip on him held d’Artagnan back from the raging inferno.

“Ya can’t!” Porthos screamed. “It’s a death trap!”

“She’s in there,” d’Artagnan began to cry. “She’s in there!” Where he found the strength d'Artagnan didn’t know but somehow he managed to break the larger man’s hold, taking Porthos by surprise. Breaking into a run d’Artagnan dashed inside.

" _STOP HIM!_ " Athos hollered. When he and the others took off after their youngest, another huge explosion came from the same building d'Artagnan ran into. It blew the inseparables clear off their feet, flinging them in all directions.

Slowly getting back up Porthos staggered, shaking off his shock.  Remembering what had happened, Porthos went to rescue their youngest.

Adrenalin rushed through his blood. It was the only thing that explained where Athos had gained superhuman strength to hold back his brother from being suicidal. Flinging his arms around Porthos, Athos held on for dear life as his brother struggled against him. "He's gone!" Athos felt dead inside. The young man he had so lovingly mentored was gone... just like their garrison. Porthos flinched away from him with tears beginning to fall down his dark-skinned face, now marred with bleeding cuts as was Athos' own.

Going to help find other survivors, Athos didn't know what made him look up toward one of the buildings still standing. The air was thick with smoke, but Athos was able to see through the haze to the rooftop where a lone figure stood like an apparition. Making out who was staring back down at him, Athos swore. "Merde! Grimaud!" Like the specter of death, the criminal came to see what he had wrought. "I vow you'll die by my hands," Athos growled. When the smoke cleared, Grimaud had disappeared again.

Aramis had found a few survivors. Clairmont being one of them though horribly injured. Burns covered half his face, not to mention the damage to the rest of the youngster's body.

"It was Grimaud," Clairmont managed to tell them.

Kneeling beside Clairmont, Athos looked the boy over. The cadet was in very poor shape and Athos was afraid he would not be long for this life. "You are not to blame." Taking his eyes from the lad, Athos gazed all around him looking at the devastation Grimaud had caused. Despair filled him, his heart ached still for the loss of d'Artagnan. Catching Aramis' eyes upon him, Athos shook his head. "This can't be all."

Trying to ease Clairmont's suffering, Aramis appeared grim. "No one else could have survived."

But to prove Aramis' word's false, the inseparables heard the cracking and breaking of boards. Looking toward the building where they had lost d'Artagnan and Constance, astonishment filled them. Kicking his way through fallen beams which were still burning, the inseparables stared in awe as d'Artagnan made his way out with Constance in his arms. Covered from head to toe in soot and ash, his uniform nearly black, d'Artagnan was still the prettiest sight they had ever seen.

When Aramis hurried over to help him, d'Artagnan shouted to the others, "Brujon's still down there! He's still down there!"

Kneeling beside Constance's body, d'Artagnan clutched her hand in both of his own. "Constance!" Getting no response he glanced over at Aramis who was feeling for her pulse. "You have to bring her back to us, Aramis!"

Appearing ill, Aramis shook his head back at him. Still, d'Artagnan refused to believe she was gone. They had been the best of friends ever since his arrival in Paris. She couldn't have left them all behind like this. "No she's not dead. She can't be dead. She's a Musketeer," d'Artagnan's shoulders began to shake, shudders wracked his tall frame as he cried out his grief.

Then miracles of miracles, Constance began hacking away. Nearly collapsing on top of Aramis in his relief, d'Artagnan leaned over her. "We're here... we're here," he repeated like a mantra until she opened her eyes. "You're okay, Constance, just breathe."

Groaning from the pain she felt in her entire body, Constance blinked until her vision cleared. Seeing two filthy looking Musketeers looming over her, Constance normal sass returned ten fold. "If none of you gutted Grimaud yet... I will."

Staring at each other dazedly Aramis and d'Artagnan began laughing.

"Constance," Aramis grinned, "you never cease to amaze me."

"Amaze myself at times too," she muttered as the boys helped her up. Now that Constance was back outside, she too noted the destruction of the garrison with growing fury in her eyes. "What have they done to us?" Her words were barely past her lips when more explosions erupted. Everyone ducked for cover watching their garrison totally crumble to pieces. 

++++

_The Wild Raven Tavern_

Grimaud was furious with Marcheaux, though he kept his voice carefully controlled. "Only d'Artagnan appears to be dead."

Unconcerned, Marcheaux finished his drink. "This is a blow the Musketeers cannot recover from."

Not pleased with such a careless response, Grimaud seethed silently.

++++

_Garrison, or what there is left of it_

Having come with the refugees to lend support and aide to the Musketeers, Sylvie observed Constance with the cadets that had been injured.

"We've managed to recover two more wagons at least," Constance shared a stricken look with the other woman.

"Some more horses too," Sylvie offered. Anything at this juncture was a plus.

"We have no medical supplies left," Aramis ran a hand through his dirty and disheveled hair.

"Weapons?" Athos questioned anyone who cared to respond.

"Non," d'Artagnan spoke up with a shake of his head. "The armory was completely destroyed."

"We'll have ta find another place ta make a stand," determination laced Porthos' voice.

Listening to the conversation, Brujon grew unsettled. "We're leaving the garrison then?"

Offering the cadet a sympathetic look Constance said, "There is no garrison, Brujon."

With a calm but steadfast appearance, Athos turned to the young cadet. "This was our home. A place where people came for justice... sanctuary," he briefly glanced at Sylvie and her friends. "But it was only ever that. A place. This is not the garrison." His gaze encompassed all of his brothers, Constance, along with the refugees. "Wherever we draw breath, make a stand, save a life... that is the garrison," Athos smiled. "We are the garrison."

"Didn't know you could wax so poetic, Athos," d'Artagnan teased, a little light relief could go a long way about now.

Porthos and Aramis always knew Athos had it in him, so they restrained themselves from saying anything further. Leaving it to the Gascon to do so in their stead.

On the other hand Constance was stunned. "That was the longest speech I ever heard Athos make." Blushing when the Musketeers all looked her way, Constance muttered something about keeping her mouth shut next time.

As the others made plans for their wounded, Sylvie needed to leave. "I'm going to see what other supplies I can gather up back at camp," Sylvie nodded to Constance.

"Ya know," Porthos nudged Athos, "they must 'ave takin' our gunpowder or the garrison would of gone up twice as fast if it would 'ave been all there."

"Grimaud must be planning to use our missing gunpowder for something else dire," Athos needed better news than this. Watching as d'Artagnan helped the injured men into a wagon, Athos knew there were more important matters on hand to deal with first. "Let's take the wounded to Christophe's tavern then there will be time to discuss this further."

"In the meantime I'll go to the palace for provisions," Aramis blew out a breath. "At least Grimaud didn't strike there."

++++

_A few hours later_

By the time Aramis arrived back at the garrison, they received a visit from a former Red Guard who dropped a woman at the Musketeer's feet taking off before he could be detained.

Porthos, d'Artagnan and Athos gathered around the poor woman realizing that she had been killed.

"I know her," Athos whispered. "She's a friend of Sylvies." A note pinned to her body caught his eye. Reading it Athos' blue eyes grew stormy. "It would appear that Grimaud has taken Sylvie hostage," his lips tightened together. "If we do not appear in Saint Antoine by noon Grimaud is going to execute refugees one by one starting with her."

"Bien," Aramis sighed, "we know where he is now. But we've fallen into that trap one time too many."

Snatching the note out of Athos' hand, Porthos read it. "This time we 'ave the advantage," he held the paper in the air. "This note suggests the three of us. Grimaud thinks d'Art is dead."

Going up to the Gascon, Porthos grabbed the lad's forearm. "Ya take out as many as ya can. Keep it quite," he smiled grimly. "All the time they think you're dead we've got the upper hand. They'll keep their eyes on us."

Patting the lad on the shoulder, Aramis winked. "Make it count."

Handing off his own poignard to d'Artagnan, Porthos nodded.

Studying Athos, d'Artagnan was surprised that his older brother hadn't given him any instructions or witty remarks. "Nothing to add, Captain?"

Brushing past the lad, Athos smirked. "Give them hell and don't get killed doing it."

"Words to live by," d'Artagnan's lips quirked upward. Following behind his friends, d'Artagnan would have to find a good place to hide where he could come out of nowhere and take down Grimaud's hired thugs.

++++

_Saint Antoine_

The inseparables arrived at the refugee camp at the appointed time.

Looking for a fight, Porthos turned to his brothers. "We fought Grimaud by our code of honor. Our rules and we know who we need ta be... No mercy."

"No rules," Athos rather liked that idea. Matter of fact he relished it.

"No honor," Aramis added firmly.

"Grimaud!" Athos yelled. Seeing Marcheaux come out of hiding, holding Sylvie in front of him, Athos wanted to throw his poignard straight into the former Red Guard's heart.

"Were you really foolish enough to come here on your own," Marcheaux sneered.

Holding his hands out to the side Athos retorted, "You left us with nothing."

Stepping out of the shadows, Grimaud faced the Musketeer captain. "Then we're almost even." Seeing the inseparables fully armed he pointed to their arsenal. "Weapons."

"Hostages," Athos countered.

"Now!" Grimaud's patience had its limits.

Divesting themselves of their rapiers, poignards and muskets, the inseparables stood defenseless.

Turning to his men, Grimaud gave his orders. "Execute Porthos and Aramis. Bring the captain to me."

While Athos followed Grimaud, Aramis and Porthos stalled for time letting d'Artagnan get in place. So when the Gascon jumped down from the building above, the element of surprise was on their side.

After all of them dispatched their enemies, Aramis fired off two shots into the air making Grimaud believe he and Porthos were now dead.

Then following the path Athos took, d'Artagnan, Aramis and Porthos finished off more of Grimaud's men. Seeing the man himself trying to get away, d'Artagnan sprinted after him. Engaging Grimaud, d'Artagnan fought him savagely. He managed to stab the canaille in the lower part of his side but though injured Grimaud escaped him.

"Get Marcheaux!" Athos shouted at the Gascon. Seeing d'Artagnan race after the other miserable cur, his thoughts turned to Grimaud. He wouldn't get away from him this time. Having seen the direction Grimaud took, Athos gave chase.

++++

Cornering himself in a section of the refugee camp, Marcheaux found himself trapped. The refugees who lived there had armed themselves and weren't letting him run away. Effectively buying time for d'Artagnan to catch up to him.

Breathing ragged, d'Artagnan caught up to Marcheaux. "SURRENDER!" he shouted.

"To you?" Marcheaux snickered.

" _YES TO ME!_ " d'Artagnan roared. "Surrender!"

"How many of your cadets did we burn in the fire?" Marcheaux taunted. "Perhaps tis for the best. Those cowards would never have made Musketeers."

With each taunt flung at him, d'Artagnan and Marcheaux clashed steel against one another. When d'Artagnan landed a harsh strike to Marcheaux's arm it gave him an advantage he desperately needed. "You forget I know what you are, Marcheaux!" d'Artagnan hollered. "Now you can no longer hide behind Grimaud and Feron!"

He knew each slash of his blade weakened the other man and d'Artagnan relished the victory that would soon be his. Seeing Marcheaux's blood spill upon the ground, among numerous other cuts d'Artagnan had dealt the man, he threw down his rapier. Throwing a punch that knocked Marcheaux onto his back, d'Artagnan grabbed a heavy chain that was within his reach. There was a deep, lingering satisfaction in seeing the flicker of fear reflected in Marcheaux's eyes.

"Get up!" he spat. Swinging the chain in the air d'Artagnan's aim was true, striking Marcheaux as soon as the man had gained his feet making him stagger backwards. "That was for Constance!" Lashing out with the chain all the harder his next blow made Marcheaux cringe in pain. "That was for my cadets!" Once more d'Artagnan swung the chain, though this time Marcheaux deftly caught it. Twisting around behind him, d'Artagnan wrapped the chain around Marcheaux's neck tightening it to the point where the canaille couldn't breathe. "And this... this is for me." Then d'Artagnan whipped Marcheaux around so fast that the man was unprepared. Falling to the ground Marcheaux impaled himself on a wooden plank full of deadly spikes, killing him instantly. Throwing away the chain, d'Artagnan didn't even bother sparing the body a glance as he left the camp. Catching up to Athos, d'Artagnan was just as disappointed that his captain wasn't able to gain satisfaction from Grimaud as yet.

++++

_Christophe's tavern_

Observing Constance and the other women tending to the wounded, Athos' shoulder brushed against the Gascon's. Thinking of his own mortality in the face of such horrendous injuries the Musketeers and cadets suffered, Athos posed a question to the lad referring to their past brotherhood together. "Does it change things? Risking your life when your life's no longer your own."

Leaning into Athos shoulder d'Artagnan let out a heartfelt sigh. "It changes everything. Tis the greatest cause you'll ever have. I never fought so hard in my life until I met you three."

"All these years we've known one another, fought alongside each other, bled for each other and the crown," Athos paused to stare into the lad's warm eyes, "I never asked you."

"You have now," d'Artagnan murmured quietly trying not to disturb those needing to heal. When he noted a sheet being pulled up over Clairmont's body, it was Athos' hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder that anchored him to the here and now. "He was too young to die," he remarked brokenly.

"Death does not play favorites, mon frere," Athos felt the Gascon's loss just as keenly. Another thing to lay at Grimaud's feet.

"I can't stay in here any longer," d'Artagnan mumbled, quickly leaving.

Close on the lad's heels, Athos followed the Gascon out the door. Seeing Aramis approaching them he noted the frown marring the marksman's face.

"Queen Anne wants to hold a blessing ceremony on the morrow for the king and to remember those who died protecting him," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Plus she wants to invite everyone no matter who they are."

"We'll make it work," Athos figured perhaps a bolstering of spirits is what everyone needed at the moment.

"We'll have too," d'Artagnan's brows shot up. As if they didn't have enough on their plates with Grimaud still on the loose. Catching Porthos' fierce expression, d'Artagnan knew his brother didn't like it any better than he.

"Let's see to the arrangements then," Athos and his brothers headed back to the palace.

++++

_Next day - At the cathedral_

Watching the procession of Queen Anne and the petit king, being guarded by the Musketeers, Constance noted a dark figure slipping in and out of the crowds that had gathered this day. To her eyes she thought it was Grimaud, having caught sight of the man only once. If it was truly him then that spelled trouble for all of them. Picking up her skirts, Constance ran to warn the Musketeers. "D'Artagnan!"

"What's wrong?" d'Artagnan had seen that look in Constance's eyes before and it never bode well.

"Grimaud's here."

"Where?" his stomach clenched when she pointed at the cathedral. "I'll inform the others." Quickly d'Artagnan caught up to the inseparables' position guarding Their Majestys.

"Remember," Porthos growled low, "we're missin' half our gunpowder from the garrison. Looks like 'e's got it."

"We need to get everybody away from here," Athos knew that was going to be a tall order.

"Everybody?" Constance felt the weight of the world landing on her shoulders.

"Do it now!" Athos ordered. "Aramis take the queen. He's here."

While Aramis whisked the queen away, Porthos went to help Constance clear the citizens out of the cathedral and away from the grounds. In the meantime, Athos and d'Artagnan went back into the church to track down Grimaud.

The lower levels of the cathedral reminded d'Artagnan very much of the Louvre... dark, damp and winding. Noting fresh gunpowder trailing off to where the kegs were stored, he got Athos' attention and they went about pulling out the fuses before everything could go boom.

Completing at least one part of their mission, d'Artagnan separated from Athos. He was lucky, or rather unlucky as he would later say, to have found Grimaud first. Even though d'Artagnan was taught street fighting techniques from Porthos, it seemed Grimaud fought even dirtier. His pistol missed its mark and so d'Artagnan unsheathed his sword as they fought. At one point, as they grappled, Grimaud managed to land a hit against d'Artagnan's previous wound to his upper back shoulder. Overwhelming pain filled his entire being and d'Artagnan nearly dropped his rapier. This gave Grimaud the opening he had been looking for as another strike against d'Artagnan had him falling backward, hitting the ground, as a wicked slash to his face had him howling in pain. Not having a chance to recover from the onslaught, d'Artagnan lost consciousness from a vicious blow to his head off of the pommel of Grimaud's blade.

Having heard the musket fire, Athos headed in the general direction from where the sound came from. Finding d'Artagnan insensible, Athos at first feared the worst. But upon seeing the steady rise and fall of the Gascon's chest he was relieved. Athos had lived through many things but if he had lost d'Artagnan his life would have lost its meaning. He had been most vocal about it before to his other two brothers but Athos meant it then and now.

Kneeling down, Athos took the younger man's head in his hands. He noted the nasty, bloody gash running down the right side of d'Artagnan's face. It would appear the lad would now look more like the rest of them. Knowing that Aramis' careful stitching would take care of it, a scar would still remain. Later they would be able to tease the Gascon about it giving him a roguish appearance. Thereby d'Artagnan would be able to give Aramis a run for his money in the ladies stakes.

Feeling a large lump on the back of d'Artagnan's head, Athos hissed. He knew there was nothing he could do for the lad right now. Gently he lowered the Gascon's head back down. "I won't be long, mon ami." Standing back up, with a last look at d'Artagnan, Athos went after his prey. If he managed to let Grimaud get the upper hand, Athos knew d'Artagnan would never forgive him if he were to die this day. So Athos planned to make sure Grimaud wouldn't get that opportunity. There was nothing worse than an angry Gascon.

++++

Having bitterly fought Grimaud to the death, Athos found himself staggering back to where he had left d'Artagnan. He found the young man semi-coherent and leaning against the wall. "Don't you dare move anymore," Athos warned. "You've got a nasty cut to the face and a lump the size of goose egg on the back of your head."

"Not to mention my back feels on fire," d'Artagnan closed his eyes against the pain.

"Mon Dieu!" Concerned the Gascon's earlier injury could have worsened, Athos placed a hand on the side of d'Artagnan's face. "I don't know if this will make the pain you're suffering feel any better but tis done." When the lad gave Athos a weary half smile and nod of approval, Athos leaned forward to place a kiss on the Gascon's brow.

++++

_Christophe's tavern_

"How'd ya end that scum, Athos?" Porthos wished it could have been him but out of all of them it was Athos who had that right.

"He drowned by my hands," Athos ignored the chuckles that came from both Aramis and Porthos. "Think tis funny do you?"

"It explains why _you_ looked like a half drowned rat yourself," Aramis chortled.

Turning his back on them, Athos walked over to where d'Artagnan laid. Seeing the lad's smirk, Athos knew he had overheard them. "I'm ignoring the Philistines over there."

"It was a fitting end to his kind," d'Artagnan yawned. "What did Aramis just give me?" he scowled at the marksman.

"Nothing but a mild pain draught, mon frere," Aramis' eyes twinkled.

"I won't be able to attend the blessing ceremony," d'Artagnan's eyelids began to droop.

"No worries there," Porthos smiled. "Queen's postponed the event til next week."

"That's nice," d'Artagnan yawned again and turned onto his side.

"Should we tell him that the queen's going to reform the Musketeers?" Aramis looked at his friends.

"The way the kid is now," Porthos laughed, "I doubt 'e'd remember much of what ya said ta 'im."

++++

_Two weeks later_

Recovered, for the most part from his injuries, d'Artagnan helped supervise the rebuilding of the garrison which had already been underway. It would take a considerable amount of time and effort along with Queen Anne's help. The monies she promised from the crown would go a long way in helping them purchase the supplies they so desperately needed.

"Gentlemen," Aramis came walking up to where d'Artagnan stood talking with Athos and Porthos, "I have a confession to make."

"Not another one," Porthos moaned. "I ain't recovered from that last one ya dumped on us over four years ago."

"I'm afraid tis the same one, mes freres," Aramis noted his friend's expressions ranged from shock to dismay and last, but not least, to disappointment. "I've seen too much death. Too much destruction since coming back."

"You're going to the monastery again?" d'Artagnan had just been getting used to having Aramis returned to the fold. Now the marksman would be leaving their ranks once more.

"Non," Aramis fingered the chapeau that he held crushed between his hands. "I've decided to follow my true path. The one my parents had always wanted for me," placing his chapeau back on his head Aramis smiled at them. "I'm going to enter the priesthood and when I return I'll be within calling distance over at Notre Dame Cathedral. I have it all arranged."

Going over to hug him, d'Artagnan had a sense of deja vu. "You do know that we've done this before." Feeling an affectionate squeeze to the back of his neck from Aramis, d'Artagnan stepped aside to let Athos and Porthos have their turn.

"Since this seems ta be the day for confessin'," Porthos grunted, "guess this is as good a time as any for mine."

"What?" Aramis chuckled. "You're entering the priesthood too? Or did Serge finally catch you raiding his kitchen again?"

"Get away with ya, Mis," Porthos grinned at the fool. "I've kept this a secret since we've gottin' back from the front," he stared at the ground feeling embarrassed. "I met up with Alice. Twas a chance meetin'. We more or less picked up where we left off," he peeked up at his brothers. "She ain't re-married and still cares for me."

"You're going to retire your commission and marry her are you not?" Athos was nothing but pleased for his good friend.

"Yup!" Porthos felt his face heating up at the love that shone out of his friends eyes for him.

"I'll have to come up with a unique wedding gift for you," Athos remarked. Noting d'Artagnan had remained silent at Porthos' announcement, his eyes slid toward their youngest.

"I'm happy for you, Porthos," d'Artagnan soon recovered from this double blow. "Don't get me wrong. I truly am," he glanced helplessly at Athos. "I suddenly feel like I'm losing everyone that means anything to me."

"Eh, kid," Porthos grabbed him in a one armed hug, "we'll be livin' just outside the city. All ya gotta do is whistle and you'll get so sick of seein' me you'll want ta kick me out of the garrison for sure."

Instigating a four way hug, d'Artagnan knew this would be the last time they would all be together.

It was this tableur General Carreau came upon when he rode into the garrison. Handing off his horse to one of the stable hands, he waited until the men broke apart. "Are you celebrating anything in particular?"

"Aramis is leaving us to become a priest," Athos explained. "Porthos here is retiring to get married."

"Ah," Carreau smiled. "Then felicitations are definitely in order. Good luck, gentlemen." Now to discuss the business he had come here for. Turning to d'Artagnan he said, "I'll be leaving for the front soon. I want you to only send the very best. Understand," he watched the Gascon's head bob up and down. Chancing a quick glance over to Athos, Carreau noted the slight shrug of the Musketeer's shoulder. So that's the way the wind shifted, eh. Apparently no one's told d'Artagnan a thing yet. Bien, he'll leave that up to his brothers to do once Carreau departed. "Anything less will disgrace our regiment, d'Artagnan." Shaking the lad's hand, Carreau hid his smile as the Gascon nodded in pretended understanding. "Enjoy the day. I still have other business that needs tending."

Perplexed, d'Artagnan stared after the tall figure of the general. "What did he mean by that?"

"You'll be in charge of recruiting and training the new Musketeers," Aramis cheerfully offered.

Laughing, d'Artagnan's hand pointed at Athos. "Tis a captain's responsibility." When he stared at Athos, the look in the other man's eyes was telling d'Artagnan things he wasn't ready for. Approaching him, d'Artagnan's tongue felt all tied up in knots along with his stomach. "Tis an honor I cannot accept." Seeing that damn smirk cover Athos' face, he repeated. "I cannot accept."

"Are you refusing my last order?" Athos' quirked a brow, smiling the entire time. They were just piling on all the surprises today and poor d'Artagnan was the recipient of the biggest one.

Seeing that Athos was adamant about it, d'Artagnan stated, "We will discuss this again."

"I don't doubt it," Athos smiled fondly at the Gascon. With d'Artagnan things were never at an end. Later they would find themselves at The Wren, arguing over a glass of wine or lager until the sun came up with neither one of them capable of making it back to their homes unaided.

"Uh, Athos," Aramis handed him a package which in turn the former captain now presented to d'Artagnan.

"What is this?" d'Artagnan glared down at. He had a nasty suspicion what it was too.

"Open it up and see," Athos' eyes crinkled up in the corners. His beaming smile transformed his features, letting everyone know how proud he was of d'Artagnan.

Letting the wrapping paper fall to the ground, d'Artagnan held up a brand new chapeau. It was a medium shade of burgundy with a jaunty matching feather, adorned with the fleur-de-lis on the other side as well. "Tis not that I'm ungrateful," he looked up at Athos. "Just... just this is too much." Afraid of what this meant d'Artagnan turned his back on his former mentor, trying to recover from everything that had happened. Feeling Athos' hand squeeze the back of his neck, he refused to turn around. "You... you're leaving me too," d'Artagnan whispered.

Forcing the young man to face him, Athos placed both hands on the Gascon's shoulders shaking the lad gently. "Non, non. I'm simply stepping back," tilting his head he tried to peek at d'Artagnan's face that was hanging down. "Tis time. I've had enough of leading men," Athos' lips twitched, "and sometimes women. Anyway it was something I had already discussed with Minister Treville before his untimely death."

"You will stay on... with me?" Uninhibited joy filled d'Artagnan at this piece of news. He would not have to face the daily grind of captaincy without his beloved Athos by his side.

" _All for one remember_ ," Athos chuckled at the relief on the lad's face. "I believe I still have a few more good years left in me," he smirked. "Enough at least to tutor you in the finer arts of diplomacy."

"Kid's already got the brains for strategic strikes," Porthos grinned.

"And the lad certainly doesn't need lessons in how to shoot at his target anymore," Aramis teased.

"Athos?" d'Artagnan cocked his head to the side. "What did you mean exactly about _diplomacy_?"

"Put your foot right smack inta that one, Athos," Porthos' infectious laughter was joined by Aramis'.

"You see, d'Artagnan, there was that incident just shy of a few weeks prior when Monsieur Gautier came complaining to me about some of the names you called him."

"He deserved them," d'Artagnan snorted. "No one should treat an animal like that. Especially one's horse."

"Ahem," Athos cleared his throat. "Oui, I agree with you," he folded his arms. "But did you have to ram your point down his throat by throwing Gautier into the horse trough?"

"Oy!" Porthos doubled over laughing all the harder. "I had 'eard about that incident but didn't get ta see it for myself."

"I was a witness and trust me it was well worth seeing. Secretly I was rooting for our Gascon the entire time," Aramis admitted.

Having heard Aramis' words, Athos spun around. "Yet you did nothing to stop d'Artagnan?"

Snickering, d'Artagnan was pleased to see someone else get into trouble beside himself.

Standing beside the Gascon's side, Porthos bumped shoulders with d'Artagnan. "I think Aramis is in for an earful while you've got some work to do... _Captin'_." Slapping the lad's back Porthos ushered d'Artagnan along.

Leaving their friends behind, they could still hear the sounds of Athos dressing down Aramis over the Gautier affair. With Athos conveniently forgetting that he had just turned his position over to d'Artagnan.

Looking over his shoulder, d'Artagnan wondered if he should intervene before Athos and Aramis came to blows.

"Best leave those two at it," Porthos gripped the Gascon's chin and turned it the other way. "Sooner or later one of 'em will remember who the captin' now is."

"That's right," d'Artagnan said in wonder. "Tis me." Thinking upon what fate may have in store for him, d'Artagnan decided he would welcome it with open arms. Come what may. After all he wanted to show the world that the inseparables had proven to be excellent teachers, the best of friends and brothers of the heart.

The End

++++

_Note:_

For those of you familiar with Dumas novels, I just had to end this with the way the original story intended. Aramis leaving to become a priest. Porthos leaving to marry a rich widow. And Athos staying on for a time before retiring, eventually ending up with a son to raise as well.


End file.
